The shirt so ugly it inspired its own entry

There was a new second-hand clothing place that opened up, so we had to go in and check it out. It’s mostly a bust, but they are still getting a feel for it, so we keep trying. One time, Sarah saw this shirt so ugly, she giggled for a good ten minutes. We left without getting it, as it was over three bucks. (I think. I was hot and tired by that point.)

Like I said in the last entry, this week we found it in the dollar bin and snatched it right up. It took a lot of thought as to how to present this… shirt… in a manner that would show off just how wrong it is. I mean, everything about it is wrong. I waffled on even showing a picture of how horrific it is. Should it go behind a cut so you can choose whether or not to click? Should there at least be a warning?

At any rate, I just decided to go ahead and unleash the Pandora’s trunk of bad taste and questionable fashion sense.

That's one ugly shirt

Our anonymous model shows off, for starters, the sheer magnitude of the lack of sizing. Is it meant to hang like that? Reminiscent of the Flashdance cropped sweatshirt and sweaty welder-turned-dancer, it actually fails miserably making the viewer wish a welding torch would appear to relieve our eyes. Not seen in the picture above, the drape is such that it actually pulls up a bit, leaving a huge gap at your back. Presumably to show off one’s tramp stamp. (That would be a lower back tattoo.) This is highlighted as well by the self-proclaimed title of “Bad Girl“.

And we haven’t even talked about the color yet. When was the last time you wore green and yellow together, on purpose, and were not at a sporting event? It’s a case of too many twirls at the center of the roller rink, with the kid who’s trying just too hard to be cool. What a feeling, indeed.

The nasty seam finishing (such as it is) the haphazard cropping, the polyester of the fabric (Oh, I forgot to mention that until now), the colors, the lack of fit, yet the mysterious ability to make any wearer (however thin) look as if they’ve gained twenty pounds across their midsection all serve to render the viewer wishing they’d never heard of the eighties in the first place, let alone long for a style comeback.

And I’m thinking this may be a garment not manufactured recently, for the retro crowd, but one that was actually present in the eighties. Now, I don’t know about you, but my memory of fashions back then were surrounded by glitter and pastels. Leg warmers, roller skates with rainbow laces and satin baseball jackets, dolphin shorts and glitter transfer tees. Those were the DAYS, my friends.

*skates away humming with a toot toot, beep beep, uh-huh*

I had to make a new rule

Last night, round about bedtime, I had to put my foot down and make a new rule.

You are not allowed to check out more books from the library than you can carry.

I really have to take my camera everywhere

We went out and about today – first for the library again (where they missed us! It’s been almost 2 weeks!) and a quick stop to the dollar store and a long stop at the bank.

Now, is it just me, or is it a bad idea to have a gun shop next to a bank? Thankfully, not my bank.

Saw a guy with a real farmer’s tan. On his head. Yes, from his eyebrows down was tanned and from the eybrows up was white. Receding hairline and all.

The girls went in to a second-hand clothing store really quick while I finished up with Emma in the library. She talks extensively to the librarian but you knew that. Anyway, Sarah was checking to see if an absolutely horrific shirt was still there. Not only was it still there (unsurprisingly) it had been moved to the dollar bin. SCORE! So she got it.

There will be pictures of that. And possibly a write-up. It’s that bad.

Some of our jaunts took a little longer than normal becasue of all the equipment on the road. Not just from all the highway construction, but all the farm equipment too.

Again, we inhaled deeply driving by the McCain’s factory. Today smelled like mashed potatoes.

Also saw a large touring van. it pulled out right in front of me because the driver could not see oncoming traffic. Then it pulled right over to where I was going – the teeny narrow covered bridge across the river. Good thing I’m alert because I didn’t move, knowing he would (and did have to ) pull right back out (without seeing me of course) because there’s no way he’d be able to cross that bridge with other vehicles. There’s barely 6 inches clearance on either side when we go across in our tiny Ford Focus.

Didn’t see this happening

… in my house full of girls.

They are all upstairs giving each other Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle tattoos.

Wanna buy my house?

So, it’s finally official; the green house is up for sale. (How long did that take? A year and a half?)

Open house

They held an open house yesterday and the word was it was busy. Someone has been to see it a couple of times already, combing over every single thing, trying to decide if it is for them or not.

I know how they feel.

I also know my readers like snooping and Lord knows you probably haven’t seen enough of the inside yet, so here’s the listing for our house. Prepare to drool.

(I already know it’s cheaper than the bathrooms of 75% of my readers and the insane real estate prices where they live. )

Out of my mind, back in a minute

I refrained from posting for a while because I had a bad couple of days. Nothing could go right for me and I thought if I posted anything I’d be all emo or I’d be slobbering and blathering and that’s just not attractive, plus I’d probably screw that up too.

Some of it was amusing though.

Like when I went to get the mail and chat up the postmistress, and a neighbour came in, got her stack and proceeded to be very excited as she ripped open a letter and sat down to read it right there. I joked, “Is that your penpal from prison?”

“Yes,” she beamed. The postmistress affirmed it to be true. Hello foot, there you are in my mouth again.

The next day I tried to burn down the kitchen. Not on purpose,  mind. Or should I say I had none at the time, for I slopped a couple glugs of oil in the frying pan, put the burner on HIGH and left the room to check my email.

No, I have no idea what I was thinking either, but my brain returned and was quite sharp when Meaghan yelled, “THE KITCHEN IS ON FIRE!”

Thankfully it was just the oil in the pan flaming nicely and away from the cupboards. Good thing it was not the back burner or my white cupboards would be black too. I quickly got a lid, smothered the flames and headed it out the back door. The porch step is a little scorched from where I set it down, and the pan might never be the same again, but the smoke cleared pretty quickly after we opened all the windows and doors, and turned on the ceiling fans. Sarah’s cough was gone by the time she went to sleep too.  And who doesn’t agree that it’s always good to practise your fire drills?

At least at the end of the day, my family still loves me. I’m a boneheaded doofus, but they love me anyway. I’m grateful.